Quinn's Woman

When she’d finished going through his jacket pockets and checking the hem and lining, she sat back on her heels. “You seem to be disarmed.”

“What about taking off my shirt?” he asked. “I might have something taped to my skin.”

“If you do, you won’t be getting to it anytime soon, will you?” She tapped his upper arm. “I tie a mean knot.”

He’d already figured that out. Pulling against the ropes hadn’t loosened them at all. He was going to have to find a different way to escape. Not that he wanted to go anywhere this second. His captor was the most entertainment he’d had in months.

He swept his gaze over her chest, lingering long enough on her breasts to make her shoulders stiffen. Then he returned his attention to her face. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth thinned, but she didn’t complain. Somewhere along the way, she’d learned the rules—if she was going to play in a man’s world, she would have to live by male rules. But that didn’t mean she had to like them.

They stared at each other, a minor contest of wills. Quinn knew he could wear her down eventually, but decided on something more interesting. A challenge.

“You cheated,” he said softly.

He waited for the blink, the blush, the guilt. Instead she only shrugged. “I won.”

“You took advantage of an accident.”

“Exactly.” She shifted until she was seated next to him. “Would you have done things any differently?”

He wouldn’t have needed an accident to win, but there was no point in saying that to her. She already knew.

“Besides,” she continued, “that was my only chance to tie you up. You wouldn’t have allowed it otherwise.”

“Good point.”

“So who are you?” she asked.

“Your prisoner of war. Do you plan to abuse me?”

One corner of her mouth twitched. “Stop sounding so hopeful. You’re perfectly safe.”

“Darn.”

The twitch threatened to turn into a smile, but she managed to control it. When her expression was serious again, she said, “You never answered the question.”

“I know.”

She wanted to know who he was, and he would tell her…in time. Right now, despite the cool evening and the damp mud, he was enjoying himself. He had thought the war games would be boring and without any challenge. He was glad to be wrong.

She drew one knee up to her chest and leaned toward him. “If you won’t tell me your name, at least tell me why you looked down. You’re a good fighter. You had to know it was a mistake.”

A good fighter? Now it was his turn to hold in a smile. He was a whole hell of a lot more than that. She’d never stood a chance, and he would guess she knew enough to figure that out.

Her chin jutted out at an angle that was pure pride. Who was she? Military?

“I knew you were setting me up and I wanted to see what you would do,” he said.

She stiffened. “You were testing me?”

“More like playing with you.”

Her breath caught in an audible hiss. Dark eyes narrowed again and he had a feeling she was itching to draw blood.

“Quinn Reynolds,” he said to distract her. “Now that you’ve felt me up and all, we should probably be on a first-name basis with each other.”

She ignored the bait. “So you won’t tell me when I ask, but you’ll share the information on your terms?”

“Something like that.” He figured she wasn’t going to offer her name, so he changed the subject. “Where’s your partner?” he asked.

“He’ll be back any minute, and then we’ll take you to headquarters. He took in our first four prisoners. Where’s your partner?”

“I got here too late to be matched up with anyone. Besides, I prefer to work alone.”

“Of course you do.” She sounded mildly amused. “You macho paramilitary types always do.”

“That’s more than a little judgmental.”

“It’s accurate.”

Quinn couldn’t argue with that. Instead he glanced up toward the damp, gray sky. “The rain’s going to start up again. If you’re not going to march me back to headquarters anytime soon, you could at least drag me under some cover.”

She, too, glanced at the sky, but in the darkness, there wasn’t much to see. He half expected her to leave him in the mud, but she surprised him by getting a tarp out of her backpack and spreading it under a nearby tree. Then she grabbed him under his arms and dragged him onto it.

Her strength impressed him, while her expression of annoyance amused him. What had her panties in a bunch? That her partner wasn’t back yet? That they both knew he was better than she was and probably only her prisoner for as long as it suited him?

“So what are you?” he asked. “Not military.”

She sat cross-legged on the edge of the tarp. “How can you be sure?”

“Am I wrong?”

She shook her head.

Just then the skies opened. Rain pounded the ground. In a matter of seconds the place where he’d been lying became a puddle. He pulled his knees toward his chest to get his feet out of the deluge.

His captor looked annoyed. He could hear her thoughts from here. How had he known it was about to rain? Who was this guy? Although he guessed she probably wasn’t using the word guy in her mind. No doubt she’d chosen something more colorful.

“If you’re not going to tell me your name,” he said, “I can try to guess.”

She adjusted the lantern and ignored him.

“Brenda,” he said.

She didn’t blink.

“Bambi? Heather? Chloe? Annie? Sarah? Destiny? Chastity?”

She sighed. “D.J.”

He wanted to know what the initials stood for but didn’t ask. She would be expecting that. Instead he said, “I’d offer to shake hands, but I’m all tied up at the moment.”

She smiled. “I can see that.”

Hey—a sense of humor. He liked that. A rough, tough woman in a very feminine package. If he could just get her to give him another full body search, his evening would be complete.

D.J. glanced at her watch and knew that her boy toy wasn’t going to make his way back to her anytime soon. It had been nearly four hours since Ronnie had left. He was either lost or captured. If he was close, she would hear him thrashing around in the bush. The silence told her she was very much alone with her prisoner.

She turned her attention back to Quinn. For a man who’d been left tied up on the ground for a couple of hours, he looked surprisingly relaxed. The rain had stopped, but it was still cool and damp. She shivered slightly. She would like nothing more than to head back to camp. There was only one thing stopping her…one very tall, very strong, very male thing.

“The rules of engagement state that a prisoner may do whatever he can to escape,” she said. “However, once he and his captor start back to headquarters, he must go quietly.”

Quinn nodded. “I heard that, too.”

“And?”

He shrugged. “I was never one to follow the rules.”

Just what she’d thought. With Ronnie helping her, she might have a shot at keeping possession of Quinn. But with only herself to guard him, he would get away. She hated to admit that, but it was true. He was too good.

She eyed his powerful body and wondered who and what he was. How much did he know that she didn’t? Where had he learned it? She’d never met anyone like him, and being around him made her want to ask a million questions. Not that she would. Showing interest meant tipping her hand—something she’d learned never to do.

“If you won’t cooperate, we’re stuck here until morning,” she said. “We’ll be picked up by one of the patrols.”

“Fair enough—I don’t have to take a midnight hike, and you get credit for my capture.”

She didn’t trust his easy agreement. He was the kind of man who always had a plan. Still, he hadn’t made any moves to get away…at least not yet.

He shifted so that he was more sitting than lying, leaning against the base of the tree. Then he jerked his chin toward her backpack.

“If we’re stuck out here for the night, how about something to eat?”

At his words, her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast. A flurry of phone calls had kept her from grabbing lunch before she’d headed out to the afternoon start of the war games.

She reached for her pack, then paused. “Where’s your gear?” she asked.

“Hidden.”

Hers had been hidden, too, right up until he’d found it. She wondered if she would be able to locate his pack, then decided it wasn’t worth facing the cold, rainy night to find out. They could get by on what she had.

She dug out four granola bars, two chocolate bars, an apple and another water bottle.

“No fast food?” he asked. “I have a hankering for some fries.”

“You’ll have to wait until they show up on the prison menu,” she said as she divided the wrapped snacks into two equal piles.

He eyed the food, then shrugged. “That beats an MRE.”

Meals ready to eat. Prepackaged food soldiers could carry into combat. She’d tried a couple and, while they weren’t as bad as everyone claimed, she would rather dine on what she had in her pack.

“So you’re military?” she asked.

“Sort of.”

“Special Forces?”

“Something like that.”

She wasn’t sure if he was being coy to annoy her or because he couldn’t talk about what he did for a living.

She poured some water from the new bottle into the one she’d been using. When there was an equal amount in both, she propped one up next to Quinn. He half turned away from her, exposing his bound wrists.

“Want to cut me loose so I can eat?” he asked.

She chuckled. “Not even on a bet.”

He rolled back into a seated position. “Then you’re going to have to feed me yourself.”

He didn’t look very upset at the prospect. In fact, there was definite amusement in his dark eyes.

She ignored it, along with the teasing tone of his voice. If he thought hand feeding him was going to fluster her, he was in for a shock.

“I haven’t seen you around town before,” she said as she unwrapped the first granola bar in his pile. “You’re not stationed at the base here, are you?”

“No. I flew into the country day before yesterday and got to Glenwood this morning. I’m here to meet up with my brother.”

She broke the granola bar into small pieces and offered him the first one. He didn’t bother leaning forward, which meant she had to stretch her arm out across his body. When her fingers were practically touching his mouth, he finally opened and bit down on the food.

He winked. “The ambiance needs a little work, but I can’t complain about the service.”

She ignored him. “Where did you fly in from?”

“The Middle East.”

There was something about the way he answered the question that made her think she wasn’t likely to get any more information from him. She waited until he’d finished chewing, then offered another piece of the bar.

“What about you?” he asked when he’d finished chewing. “You live in Glenwood?”

“Yes.”

“What do you do?”

She hesitated because her natural inclination was to not reveal any personal information. Quinn waited, his expression interested, his body relaxed. Finally she shrugged and gave him the bare-bone facts.

“I’m a private consultant,” she said. “I teach classes at local schools, telling kids how to stay safe. I teach women basic self-defense. I’m also on call with several state and federal organizations, along with some private firms. They bring me in to help in extracting children from dangerous situations.”

“Domestic abductions?” he asked.

“Sometimes.” Domestic abductions meant the kidnapping of a child by the noncustodial parent. “Sometimes it’s a straight kidnapping for money or revenge.”

She stopped talking the second she realized she wanted Quinn to be impressed. Don’t be an idiot, she told herself. What did she care what this guy thought of her?

She fed him the last of the granola bar then unwrapped one for herself.

“Is there a Mr. D.J.?” he asked.

“No.”

“Just no?” Quinn raised his eyebrows. “A former Mr. D.J., then?”

“Not even close.”

“Why not? A pretty woman like you should be married.”

She laughed. “You sound like an Italian grandma. I have no interest in getting married. It was an institution invented by men to get their needs met. They get full-time live-in help, including a maid and a nanny when they have kids. Not only don’t they have to pay for it, but most wives will do all that and go get a job. Marriage is a great deal for men, but what do women get out of it?”

“Safety. Security.”

“Right. Tell that to the women at the local shelter. The ones who have been beat up by their loving husbands.”

“You’ve obviously thought this through,” he said.

“It didn’t take long.”

She finished her granola bar and opened his second one.

“So you keep your men on a short leash?”

She leaned toward him. “I keep them in a cage.”

She’d thought he might be offended by her opinions and bluntness, but instead he laughed. Her forearm brushed his chest, and she felt the rumble of his amusement.

His dark gaze locked with hers. “Do you have them all running scared or are a few of them brave enough to stand up to you?”

“Most are too busy heading for the hills. They want soft, gentle, trusting women.”

“You can be soft.”

“Right. That’s me. A delicate flower.”

“You’re still a woman, D.J. Combat boots and a few fancy moves don’t change that.”

She thought of herself as competent and independent. Not soft. Soft implied weak. “My moves aren’t fancy and I have more than a few of them.”

“Tough talk for a girl.”

She held up the piece of the granola bar. “Do you want to eat this, or do you want to keep flapping your lips?”

He obligingly opened his mouth. She moved closer. This time, though, as he took the food, his lip came in contact with her fingertips.

There was a flash of heat where their skin touched, along with a flicker of tightness in her stomach. D.J. nearly jumped in surprise. What on earth was that? She didn’t react to men. Not now, not ever. She liked some, disliked others and rarely trusted any of them.

Unsettled, but determined not to show it, she continued to feed him the granola bar but was careful to make sure there wasn’t anymore contact. As she finished her second bar, she tried to analyze what was going on. Okay, Quinn wasn’t like most men she met. He was unfazed by her or by being tied up. He was an excellent fighter, probably in Special Forces and most likely stationed overseas. He was—

Tall, dark and good-looking. Of course.

Relief coursed through her as she realized what was going on. Quinn Reynolds reminded her of the Haynes brothers. All four of them shared the same general physique, dark coloring and facial structure. She’d known Travis Haynes, the sheriff, and Kyle Haynes, one of the deputies, since she’d first moved to Glenwood. Over the past few years, she’d met the other brothers.

They were all good guys, and some of the very few men she trusted. Quinn looked enough like them to put her off balance.

Having solved the problem, D.J. relaxed. She fed Quinn his chocolate bar, ate her own, then used her penknife to cut the apple in two, then divide it into slices.

“I don’t think your partner is coming back,” he said conversationally.

D.J. glanced at her watch, then nodded in agreement. “Ronnie wasn’t really good in the woods,” she admitted. “I’m guessing he’s lost. Or captured by an enemy.”

“Are you sure you didn’t leave him tied up somewhere?”

She grinned. “He and I were partners. I would never actually hurt him. I settled on threatening him.”

“Was he scared?”

“Terrified. Barely eighteen and a new recruit. But he knew how to follow orders. We captured four prisoners in our first couple of hours. Three of them were army officers.”

“How?”

She explained about distracting them while Ronnie sneaked up from behind. When she’d finished, Quinn shook his head.

“Do you always do whatever it takes to win?”

“I do whatever it takes to be in control. There’s a difference.”

He glanced down at her hand. “So I didn’t kick you in the wrist before. You were faking it.”

“Of course.”

“I can respect that.”

While they were discussing recent history…“How did you throw me without hurting me?” she asked. “I barely felt anything.”

“I have great hands.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m serious.”

“I am, too. Besides, I don’t beat up on women.”

With his abilities, he could beat up on anyone he wanted.

“Being female can give you an advantage,” he said. “Men aren’t always expecting women to be tough. Do you ever get into trouble using your femininity in a situation? Ever take on more than you bargained for?”

“I don’t go in blind, so no. I’m prepared for every eventuality.”

“Do you ever get personally involved?”

“Not even close.”

He considered her answer. “You could do undercover work.”

“Maybe.” But it wasn’t her style. “That would require a level of vulnerability I don’t allow.”

“Sometimes it comes with the territory. Aren’t you the one willing to do whatever it takes to win?”

“No. To be in control.” She studied him. “What about you? Do you ever go undercover?”

“Sometimes. Mostly I just creep around in the dark, waiting to pull people out of places they’re not supposed to be.”

Probably a simplistic version of his work, but one that made her want to ask a lot more questions. Doubtful that he would answer them, she checked her watch. It was after eleven.

“Are you going to get in trouble for staying out all night?” he asked.

“Are you?”

“I hope so.” He shifted so that he was stretched out on the tarp. “If you’re going to make me stay out in the rain, the least you can do is cuddle close so we can stay warm.”

“I don’t think so.”

“That’s the woman in you talking.”

She started to protest, then realized he was right. The temperature was cool enough to make her shiver. Neither of them would get any sleep unless they could warm up. But stretching out next to a strange man wasn’t her idea of a good time.

“Shy?” he asked cheerfully.

She ignored him and slid closer. While she’d “slept” with a few men, she’d never been one for spending the night. She certainly never allowed herself to fall asleep after. Of course, in this case Quinn wasn’t a lover—he was her prisoner. That changed the dynamics.

He was big and tall and as she moved next to him, she could feel his heat.

“I could use a pillow,” he said.

“Fine.”

She grabbed the pack and shoved it under his head. He smiled at her.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now go to sleep.” She reached to turn off the lantern, but before she could, he spoke again.

“I can’t. My arms hurt.”

She glared at him. With them both lying down, his face was fairly close to hers. She could see the stubble on his jaw and the length of his dark lashes.

“I’m not untying you,” she told him. “If you promise to behave, I’ll take you into camp.”

His mouth turned up at the corners. “I almost never behave.”

“Why is that not a surprise?”

She reached behind her and clicked off the lantern, then shifted close to him. But somehow he’d managed to move just enough so that when she lowered her head, she found it resting on his shoulder.

Her first instinct was to bolt for safety. Because she didn’t want him to know she was rattled, she forced herself to stay in place. A few minutes later, her apprehension faded. Quinn was tied up; she was safe.

She deliberately concentrated on slowing her breathing. After a few more minutes she became aware of the not-unpleasant masculine scent of his body. He generated plenty of heat, and she found herself relaxing.

“This is nice,” he said into the darkness.

“Hmm.”

“Don’t I get a kiss good-night?”

Her eyes popped open and she stared into the darkness. A kiss? “No.”

He made a low clucking sound. It took her a second to realize he was trying to imitate a chicken.

“Oh, yeah, that’s going to work,” she said.

“You’re tempted,” he said, “but nervous. That’s okay. I understand. I’m a big, handsome hunky guy who turns you on. But you don’t have to be nervous. I’ll be gentle.”

“You’ll be sucking wind.”

Obviously, the man didn’t have any self-esteem issues. Although she wasn’t the least bit concerned about her safety, what did make her jittery was the fact that the thought of kissing him was almost appealing.

“You’re missing out,” he said. “You know, you wouldn’t even have to untie me. You could take advantage of me. I wouldn’t mind.”

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

He sighed heavily. “Just one kiss.”

“No.”

“There doesn’t have to be any tongue.”

“Gee, thanks for letting me know.”

“Come on. You want to. How long will it take? Then we can go to sleep.”

Despite the craziness of what he was saying, D.J. found herself reaching for the lantern and clicking it on.

“You’re getting on my nerves,” she said.

Quinn puckered his lips like a man imitating a fish. She couldn’t help chuckling.

He was big, dangerous, probably trained to kill and he made her laugh. What was wrong with this picture?

She sighed. “I want your word that you’ll be quiet and go to sleep. No more conversation, no more requests.”

“I’d cross my heart, but I’m a little tied up right now.”

“Was that a yes?”

“Yes.”

She leaned close. One kiss, she told herself. Just a quick peck good-night. It didn’t mean anything. She wouldn’t let it. She was just doing this to shut him up—not because she was the least bit…interested.

Her mouth barely touched his. There was the same flash of heat she’d experienced when her fingers had brushed his lips, and a tightening low in her belly. She braced herself for an aggressive response from him, but he didn’t move. She wasn’t even sure he was breathing.

Slowly she pressed a little harder. Not exactly deepening the kiss, but not ending it, either. Something warm and liquid poured through her. It made her thinking fuzzy and her body relax. It made her—

Panic surged as she realized she was actually enjoying the close contact. Temptation, desire, need were all too risky. Too dangerous. She knew better. She’d spent her entire life knowing better.

But she wouldn’t let him know she was rattled. Instead of jerking her head back, she broke the kiss slowly, then opened her eyes.

She braced herself for a verbal slam, but Quinn only smiled. Not a victorious smile, but one that said they’d shared something intimate.

No they hadn’t, she thought as she turned off the lantern and settled onto the tarp. They’d kissed. So what? People kissed all the time. It didn’t mean anything. It never had. She wouldn’t let it.

Chapter Three

Quinn awakened sometime before dawn. He recognized the gray light outside the main flap of the large military-issue tent, then he stretched on the cot. The makeshift bed was a hell of a lot more comfortable than the tarp where he’d spent the first part of the night. Of course, then he’d had a sleeping companion. He’d traded the company of an intriguing and beautiful woman for comfort. Not much of a trade.

Memories of the previous evening made him smile. When D.J. woke up and saw he’d escaped, she was going to be spitting nails. Too bad he would miss the show. At least he knew she would come looking for him at camp, demanding to know how he’d done it. He’d made sure of that by leaving his cut ropes coiled up neatly beside her. The message was clear—he’d escaped and he’d had a knife that she’d missed. No way would she be able to resist a challenge like that.

Fifteen minutes later he was sipping coffee at one of the tables in the mess tent. He’d spread out the morning paper, but instead of reading, he was watching the main entrance, waiting for a tall, shapely brunette to burst inside and demand an explanation…not to mention retribution.